Kind to children and puppies.

I never knew that was a requirement of mine until now.

Until Becket.

I study our joined hands, the way his long, tapered fingers lace with my smaller ones. It’s not so much the fact he’s holding my hand as much as the sensation of security elicited from his touch. Becket has a way of making me feel safe when I’m with him.

What I wouldn’t have given to feel this utter calmness, this security long ago…

“Penny for your thoughts.”

His husky voice draws me from my inner musings, and I raise my eyes to find him studying me, his eyes crinkling at the corners ever so slightly, the corner of his lips quirking up.

I lean in and drag my lips over his earlobe before I gently toy with it between my teeth. At his sharp inhale, I whisper, “I’d rather show you once we get inside.”

In a whirlwind of movement, Becket has us out of the limo and inside the house with my back pressed against the front door in less than a minute. He fuses his mouth to mine, claiming me in a fiercely passionate kiss. His fingers thread through my hair, and my purse falls to the floor when he uses his hold on my hair to tilt my head, angling it to deepen the kiss. His tongue darts inside, and the instant our tongues tangle sensuously, I lose all will to restrain myself.

My movements are frantic as I attempt to rid him of his tuxedo jacket and unfasten his shirt, desperate to feel his bare skin beneath my palms. With jerky movements and without breaking the kiss, he discards his jacket. When I have trouble with one particular button on his shirt, he takes over and tugs swiftly, buttons pinging in various directions before he rids himself of it.

Instantly, I place my palms on his firm pectorals, his body heat radiating beneath my touch. His muscles ripple gently as I glide my hands down over the ridges of his abdominals and reach his waistband.

I dip my fingers beneath the front of his pants and graze the tip of his jutting erection, pressing firmly against the fabric of his boxer briefs. I run my thumb over the head of his cock and detect the moisture rapidly dampening his boxers. Need courses through my veins and, without any hesitation, I delve beneath the band of his briefs to grasp his hardness.

Becket abruptly withdraws his hands from my hair and slams his palms flat against the door on either side of my head while pressing into my hand as I stroke his cock. I shove his pants down, and he shifts from side to side to toe off his shoes. Soon, he stands before me clad in only socks.

I break the kiss to glance down at him and smirk when his eyes lock with mine. “This is a good look for you.”

His husky laugh causes shivers to tingle down my spine. He skims his palms along my back before cupping my ass in his hands and tugging me closer, flush against his body, against his hard cock. With aching slowness, he draws the zipper of my dress down, allowing it to fall to my waist, leaving me clad in a strapless bra.

With a swift flick of his fingers, he unfastens my bra, and it drops to the floor. His gaze moves to my breasts, and the scorching heat in his eyes has my nipples hardening. He cups the weight of one breast in his large palm, and I arch into his touch. His eyes are locked on the contrast of his tan skin against my paler one, but something shifts in his gaze when it lifts to meet mine.

“Tell me you want more, Ivy. More from me than just a quick fuck.”

His tone is casual, and though there’s a bite to his words, an underlying hint of uncertainty is laced in it.

This man who’s posed in his boxer briefs for well-known ad campaigns. This man who’s been the face for sports drink ads, whose face is on buses and in television ads.

I’m the person who’s given him a reason to feel uncertain.

He’s not completely off base in asking me this. If I were in his position, I’d do the same. If I were about to take the next step with someone adamantly opposed to relationships and any potential emotional entanglements, I’d be decidedly wary.

There’s a sudden tightness in my chest, but I’m powerless at holding back the words itching to break free.

From somewhere in the deep, dark depths of my inner being, my soul, the words spill past my lips. “Yes.” I draw in a deep, fortifying breath. “I want more.” I glide my hand to the center of his chest, settling my palm over his tattoo, and his hot skin sears my palm. “I want more, Becket.”

His gaze turns molten before his head descends, and his mouth claims mine in a feverish kiss. He shoves my dress down past my hips, allowing it to drop at my feet, and I’m left completely bare.

I’ve been naked before, but this…this is infinitely different. When he draws away to run his eyes over me slowly, it feels as though he can see right into my soul.

As though he can see past all my defenses.

His eyes clash with mine, and something within the depths of his gaze compels me to act. It draws me to reach for him and pull him closer, to kiss him as if my life depends on it.

He groans beneath my lips. His abdominals ripple beneath my touch, and his prodding hardness juts against my stomach. A surge of wetness gathers between my thighs, increasing my ache for him, to feel his hard cock deep inside me.

He dips his head to draw a nipple into his mouth, and he suckles me hard. I clutch at his hair and finger the strands while I push my breast to his mouth, aching for more of his torturous touch. I’m pinned to the door by his heavy, muscled body and reach for his hard flesh. When I grasp him in my palm and wrap my fingers around his length, he pulses and thrusts into my touch. I run the pad of my thumb over the head of his cock, gathering the moisture there, and bring it to my lips to suck it off.

His eyes track my movements, turning hotter, practically incinerating me. Releasing my nipple, he raises his head and grasps my hands, restraining me against the door.

“You’re mine.” His words resonate through me, reverberating to my core.

To my soul.

“Say it.” His expression is fierce, his voice raspy. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine.”

I swallow hard past the lump in my throat and wonder how I’m going to acquiesce. I can’t possibly tell him that. I’ve never—

“I’m yours.”

The words tumble past my lips before I realize it, and I’m certain surprise is etched across my features. I barely have time to register the magnitude of what I’ve said because Becket’s lips crash down on mine in a devouring kiss that feeds my soul while simultaneously sending my heart into a frantic frenzy.

When he lifts me, I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, and he presses the head of his cock to my core.

Breaking our kiss, he presses his forehead against mine while his hot, minty breath washes against my lips as he speaks. “I’m a damn wuss. I hate the idea of moving away from you, but I need a condom from my pants.”

“I’m clean.” Who am I? I silently question, just as I add, “And I’m on the pill.”

He leans back, his eyes searching mine. “Are you sure?”

I’ve never been so sure about anything before in my life.

“Yes.”

If I know one thing for certain, it’s that Becket is the first and only man I’ve wanted inside me with such a fervent need. With an aching desperation.

He moves his hips and notches the head at my entrance. “Ivy?” He poses this simple question to me, silently asking me if I’m sure. And I know without a shadow of a doubt that if I were to change my mind, this man would respect me—would respect my decision—regardless of how much discomfort it might cause him.

“Yes.”

That’s all I say. Nothing more is needed because, although he may only hear me say yes to having sex with him with no barrier between us, that’s not all this is.

A small part of my subconscious realizes this is more.

I’m simply not ready to fully recognize it quite yet.

He presses into me, his flared tip sliding inside, spreading me. I gasp at the delicious stretch. Once he eases inside fully, he allows me to adjust before he begins to thrust in languid, madness-inducing motions. One hand cradles the back of my head, and he rocks his hips, his other hand maintaining a firm hold on my waist.

His mouth is at the side of my neck, his teeth gently nipping at my skin, and I’m transfixed at the play of his sinuous muscles in his shoulders and arms as I clutch at his biceps.

Shoulders… Wait!

“Becket, stop.” My voice is breathless. “Your shoulder.”

He lifts his head, and his dark eyes connect with mine. The lust ebbs slightly, giving way to a hint of amusement. “If you think”—he rocks against me—“I can feel anything else aside from this…” Becket widens his stance, utilizing the firm strength of his quad muscles to sink further into me.

My features must display disapproval because he releases a half laugh, half groan. He wraps his arm around me securely and stalks the few feet to the dining room. Using one foot, he kicks out one of the armless, high-backed chairs and sits down with me on his lap. The positioning drives him even deeper, and I reach out to grip the chair back for added leverage.

He gazes into my eyes, the specks of gold highlighting the darker brown depths as if he can see into every part of me.

But he doesn’t know the secrets embedded deep within my soul. Secrets that would hurt him.

Yet I’m the most selfish individual because I’m dismissing all of them—all of my secrets that could put him in danger—for this. For him. For this moment.

“Ivy.” The way he murmurs my name is nearly my undoing. His gaze gentles and the affection in it evokes the racing of my heart.

I fasten my mouth over his and attempt to communicate everything I can’t put into words. Our kiss is wet and all-consuming, our tongues tangling while our bodies move in frantic desperation, striving for our release.

His fingers tighten their grip on my waist, his hips moving in powerful upward thrusts while simultaneously pulling me down on his hard cock, and I know he’s close. I reach a hand between us to finger my clit, and his heavy-lidded eyes lock on my movements.

His voice is guttural, hoarse. “You’ve got no idea how damn sexy that is.” Dark eyes briefly flicker up to meet mine, and he slows his thrusts. “Look at how wet you’ve made me.” I follow his line of sight and notice the slick sheen on his cock where our bodies are joined. When he works me over his length, sliding out infinitesimally only to disappear inside me, I can’t restrain a tiny moan while I continue to rub my clit.

“You’re getting tighter, wetter.” Our eyes lock, our breathing ragged, and I work my finger over my clit faster, his words spurring me on. “God, Ivy.” His head descends to nip gently at my collarbone, and he murmurs against my skin, “You undo me.”

The sentiment, the emotion-filled words catapult me over the edge. My muscles tighten before my orgasm crests, and my inner muscles clench and unclench around him. His own groans are ragged as he gives two more deep thrusts, and I feel his release flooding me to combine with mine.

Our chests rise and fall as we remain joined, slumped against one another in the chair. Pressing my cheek against his good shoulder, I dust a feather-light kiss to the side of his throat where his pulse continues to beat rapidly.

His arms are wrapped around me so securely, and I fantasize about him being able to keep me safe from my demons.

I just wish I knew a way to keep him safe from them, too.